It's Just That the Time was Wrong
by the-LethalCure
Summary: All it takes to change their lives is one drunken man and his car. Izumi finds himself drowning in a wave of chaos and grief as he watches helplessly while his friend teeters on the edge of life and death. IZMZ, angst, etc. Rated for cursing and blood and whatnot.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

All he hears before the impact is the squeal of tires and familiar voice shouting his name. He braces himself, but the collision is nothing like he expected. He tumbles along the asphalt road for a bit before landing hard on his side, which knocks the wind out of him. Feeling the pain tear into his body, he squeezes his eyes shut and bites down hard on his lip.

Numbly, he notes that the world is spinning and twisting; also, his arm is rather scraped up, bleeding onto the street. There's a stabbing pain in his head, too, that causes him to wince as he tries to prop himself up on his elbow. He's extremely disoriented but still sane enough to realize that he wasn't hit by the car that had careened out of control just moments before. All the warning he had been given was the squeal of the tires, the roar of the engine, and the blinding headlights behind him; it surely hadn't been enough notice for him to move out of the way of the incoming vehicle. Then what had hit him?

The world becomes dizzying as Izumi pulls himself to his feet and squints at the blurry figures. After a few seconds, it registers that those figures are his teammates gathered in a noisy mass near the front of a crooked car. The noise nauseates him and makes his head throb; in addition, there's something nagging, pulling at the back of his mind, but he can't quite place it.

"Izumi!"

Then it crashes on him all at once as he remembers the voice that called to him before the collision. He gapes openly as a feeling of pure dread like he's never felt inundates Izumi while his blurred vision starts to focus. _'Oh God, no.'_

"Izumi!" Oh, that's Tajima calling him now, isn't it?

"Are you hurt?" Izumi ignores him as he slowly walks over on unsteady feet to the small crowd and shoulders his way to the front. _'No, no, please, no.'_

He sees the blood first, pooled on the pavement like a small, crimson lake. It shines bright from the streetlight, and there seems to be so much more of it with each passing second, just pouring onto the road and drenching everything in scarlet. Slowly, Izumi shifts his attention to the body. _'Please, no, n-'_

As his world crumbles to pieces, Izumi falls to his knees and reaches out a shaky hand, placing it blindly on the blood-soaked shirt of his friend. The shallow rise and fall of the chest tells Izumi that he's still alive. There are voices, probably telling him to stop before he makes it worse, but they sound like a garbled mess to him, just background noise; the only sound he hears is the sound of his own frantically beating heart. Izumi brings his other hand to gently stroke Mizutani's blood-matted hair, almost like a mother comforting her ill child.

His focus trails down to where his other hand lies resting on Mizutani's chest. "You idiot," Izumi finds himself saying to the broken body of his friend although it comes out more like a whimper.

It surprises him when he hears a faint whisper of his name. Izumi jerks his attention to his friend's face, eyes wide and hopeful. Mizutani's eyes are closed though, and he doesn't say anything more.

Desperately, his hands fumble against the bloody mess. '_I'll stop the bleeding,'_ Izumi thinks frantically. _'It'll be okay. It'll be fine.' _

Around him, the voices rise, but it's not until strong hands grip his shoulders and pull him away that Izumi realizes that his teammates are calling his name, telling him to stop. He struggles against the hands, but the other person easily overpowers him and pulls him back out of the throng of his teammates and chaos, away from Mizutani.

Once he's in the open, Izumi whirls around to glare furiously at Hanai. The captain can only give him a sad look and place his strong hands on Izumi's shoulders so he can't turn back.

Hanai stares straight into Izumi's burning eyes and promises, "Mizutani will be fine. The ambulance is on its way."

His voice doesn't shake and his stare doesn't waver, so Izumi almost feels reassured. But did Hanai see Mizutani's shattered body? And the blood? Oh, the blood. Izumi tells himself that this is just Hanai's job: holding the team together no matter what. He wants to tell Hanai that he doesn't need his comfort or his lies, but the sharp sound of a car door paralyzes the freckled boy.

The two boys look over to watch the driver of the car stagger out and gape dazedly at the night sky. Izumi tastes bile rise in his throat as he notes that the man is definitely drunk. He's pretty handsome and young (probably in his early twenties), but what really stands out are his disheveled clothes, uncoordinated eyes, and the strong smell of alcohol that seems to roll off of him in waves.

Only one thought consumes Izumi's mind as he stares down the drunken man: this bastard is the reason why Mizutani is dying on the cold road.

Shaking off Hanai's slackened grip, Izumi charges the drunk driver, grabbing the startled man's collar and yanking him forward before Hanai can even protest. Dazed and frightened by the small boy's sudden movement, the man flinches under Izumi's bestial glare. Furious, Izumi attempts to burn his message into the man's flesh with his glower, _'You're the reason for Mizutani's pain.'_

When Hanai starts tugging at Izumi's shoulder, the latter draws closer to the stranger and snarls, "I should kill you. You're the one who should be bleeding to death."

Hanai strengthens his grip and barks "Izumi!" But it isn't the captain's voice that Izumi hears. Instead, Mizutani's worried voice fills his mind with the warning that came a little too late.

For the first time, Izumi seems to notice the blood on his hands that's now soaking into the white collar of the driver. Numb and disgusted, he releases the man and stumbles backwards; a man who's that drunk and miserable isn't even worth the breath used to curse him. Hanai puts an arm around his shoulders as Izumi turns around and starts walking back to the team.

A slurred voice stops the duo in their tracks. From behind them, the drunken man rasps out, "There's no harm in a couple o' drinks…it was just a couple o' drinks, hmm."

'_How could he possibly say that?! Does he really think that justifies what he's done?!' _screams Izumi in his mind, and he tenses up and moves to grab the guy again; however, Hanai's arm is already gone from his shoulders. Before Izumi can get his body to react, Hanai whirls around and punches the stranger in the face with a tremedous force Izumi had only seen in Hanai's batting before.

The two friends looked on, indifferent, as the man crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Already, Izumi can see a black eye already blooming, and his lips twitch into a small, bitter smile that's more of a grimace. That guy was not going to be happy when he woke up.

* * *

Hello, everyone and anyone who's reading this! First time submitting a story...

Reviews are very welcome! Anything is much appreciated^^

This was actually something I wrote a while ago and posted on theOtaku, but I reread it and decided to change it up before submitting it here. That's all. Hope you like it!

By the way, this is set in the original Nishiura Nine's (plus Nishihiro) second year of high school.


	2. Chapter 2

At first the world was blinding, and then it was pitch black. Again and again, the switch occurs, causing Izumi to question when he is really conscious and when his imagination is coloring his world. He cringes at the bright light and the voices. Sometimes, the voices tell him to do things, so he does them. He supposes the voices made sense; however, he never feels truly awake. There is a constant pain in his head, but it was nothing compared to the pure emptiness in his chest. It was a crushing, dull ache – like someone had simply ripped out everything and left a gaping hole.

The constant journey between light and dark, day and night, consciousness and sleep muddles and confuses Izumi. In the back of his mind, he knows that he's forgetting something important, but whenever he tries to shed light on the area, the ache in his chest hits him like a blow to the gut and makes him nauseous. So he pushes the dark thoughts and keeps them buried in the corner of his mind, determined to forget them for even just a moment.

"Izumi!" Groaning at the sudden intrusion of bright light, the dark-haired boy rolls over in the grass and buries his face in his arms. It's only when the voice calls his name again that he realizes the pounding in his head has receded. He feels the cap that he hadn't even noted the presence of being removed from his head, allowing the sun to beat down on him. Slowly, Izumi opens one eye and looks up at the figure towering before him. The sunlight shines around the boy before him, making his orange hair look golden.

"What is it?" Izumi asks monotonously, squinting at the smiling face above him. Part of him is screaming that something is wrong, but another stronger part of his mind tells him to embrace it. The face of the golden-haired moron sports an even bigger grin and suddenly there's a baseball cap being waved in front of Izumi's eyes.

"I got your hat!" And with that, the face is gone from Izumi's line of sight. Grumbling slightly but hardly irritated, Izumi swiftly jumps to his feet and sprints after the hat-thief. There was no way that idiot thought he would actually be able to outrun Izumi – no way in hell.

Wind rushes by as Izumi tears across the familiar baseball field after his friend. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, breathing in deeply and enjoying the warmth of the moment, but then his eyes snap back open, locking on his target. With renewed energy, the smaller boy increases his speed, quickly gaining ground on his lanky, ginger friend.

Mizutani looks back at his opponent in this little game, laughing, "You can't catch me!"

"Fumiki," Izumi threatens, digging his cleats into the grass and sprinting even faster, "if you don't give it back, I will tickle you until you cry for mercy!" His voice is more of a growl, but it's hard to take Izumi seriously when he's smiling, happier than he's ever been. Mizutani sees his grin and matches it with a goofy smile.

The ginger bursts out with another laugh, "Oh, is that a promise?" But Izumi has already caught up to him. In one swift movement, Izumi tackles Mizutani and begins tickling him before they hit the ground. Panicked, Mizutani flings the hat to the side, concerned more about the potential death-by-tickling. Izumi doesn't even glance at the cap that lies forgotten on the field.

In a fit of laughter, Mizutani swats frantically at Izumi's fast hands. Those hands find a thousand openings though, spots unguarded by Mizutani's less coordinated limbs. The left-fielder howls with laughter and begs for mercy, but Izumi, that sadistic jerk, will have none of it. He switches tactics and tries tickling Izumi instead, and yes, that seems to work. Surprised, the latter goes on the defense although it's no use; Mizutani's arms are stronger and longer than those of his victim's.

It's a fight for dominance, really: a tangle of limbs and fingers moving to a soundtrack of curses, threats, and laughter. Finally, Mizutani succeeds in flipping over and pinning Izumi against the fresh grass. Both of them are red-faced and sweaty with grins of pure delight plastered on their faces. He gives a shout of triumph before promptly flopping beside the freckled boy, both breathing heavily. They both know there was no real winner or loser in this match.

Mizutani turns his head, grinning from ear to ear, and comments quietly, "I didn't know you knew my given name." Upon finishing his sentence, Mizutani cautiously finds Izumi's hand with his own and laces their fingers together in an awkward knot.

Starting slightly at the action, Izumi contemplates this for a moment then replies with a shrug, "I didn't know that I knew it either." Then he moves his own hand into a more comfortable position and gives a squeeze to that hand that fits perfectly with his own.

"So," wonders Mizutani, "do I get to learn your name?" Izumi looks over at him as the ginger boy stares dreamily into the clouds. He wonders why this had seemed so terrible at first.

_"Kousuke."_

Mizutani doesn't even acknowledge the voice or name. Confused, Izumi narrows his eyes. That voice didn't sound like his own. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach makes him look at Mizutani in a different way. Something was wrong with this picture, but it felt so right.

_"Kousuke?"_ No, that definitely wasn't his voice.

Suddenly Mizutani is covered in blood, but he remains staring blissfully into the sky. The blood runs off his body and soaks the field in crimson; it runs down his arm and trickles onto their linked hands, causing Izumi to become nauseous. The stabbing pain and empty feeling are back, and it takes all his will power for Izumi not to scream right then and there. It wasn't fair. Not caring anymore, Izumi removes his hand and throws himself so that he's half on top of Mizutani who jumps at the sudden movement.

"Izumi, what's wrong?" Mizutani's face is so full of concern and worry that Izumi can't look at him anymore, choosing instead to bury his face into his friend's bloody jersey. Did he not feel the blood or the pain? That was good then.

"Izumi?"

"Just," breathes Izumi, "don't leave me." Unbidden tears fill his eyes when the ache in his chest physically pains him.

He feels those gentle, strong arms encircle him and hold him close. "I won't. I promise."

Izumi wants to believe those words, but it's then that he's yanked back to reality by a gentle touch on his shoulder. He stares blankly up into the face of his worried mother, tears still trailing down his freckled cheeks.

"Kousuke," she says quietly, "how do you feel? You were crying. Are you in pain?"

Groggily, Izumi looks around the room before wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. He notes that his right arm is bandaged and slightly sore. His head pounds for a few minutes but that pain is soon reduced to a dull throb. After a quick scan, he deduces that he must be in a hospital room.

Remembering that his mother asked him a question, he slowly shakes his head and licks his dry lips. He opens his mouth to ask a question, but instead starts to cough, his mouth and throat dry. His mother reaches over to a table by the hospital bed and brings a glass of water to his lips. Grateful for the cool liquid, Izumi takes a few sips then tries to ask his question again, but his mother cuts him off.

"Kousuke, how does your head feel?" she asks, her eyes filled with concern and hurt.

Slightly irritated by the second interruption, Izumi narrows his eyes and replies curtly, "It feels fine."

His mother nods and comments quietly, "The drugs must be doing their job." She finishes her statement by pointing at the IV hooked in her son's arm. When Izumi tries to ask his question once more, he is interrupted. "The doctor says you have a concussion."

'_A concussion? Was my fall really that bad? I guess I did hit my head pretty hard, but what is that supposed to mean? Do I have brain damage?'_ Izumi's thoughts race through his head, muddling his mind.

Seeing the distressed look on her son's face, Izumi-san runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it. "Don't worry," she adds with a tiny smile, "It's only a minor one. You'll have a headache, maybe some nausea, and a bit of trouble remembering things, but the fall didn't cause any major harm.

"However," she continues, giving her son a hard look, "that means no baseball for a while. And no school tomorrow so that you can recover."

Izumi groans and would have complained further if it hadn't been for a knock at the door and a third, more welcome voice. "That's right, Izumi. Momo-kan already knows about your injuries and she agrees that you should take it easy for a while. You can still come for meditation and light stretching if you want, but you have to sit out of the practices and games for at least a week."

"You, too, Hanai?" grumbles Izumi, fixing a half-hearted glare at his captain.

Solemnly, Hanai nods his head and replies, "No one wants you to strain yourself and aggravate your injuries." He gives Izumi a meaningful look, causing the other boy to remember what exactly he had been trying to ask. Watching the two boys, Izumi-san stands up and pushes back her chair from the bed. "I'll be in the hall if you need me."

As Izumi's mother exits the room, Hanai moves in and takes her formerly occupied seat. Once seated, the captain of Nishiura's baseball team leans forward, putting his elbows on the bed and resting his head in his hands.

"Izumi," he begins slowly, "Mizutani isn't doing well. He went through surgery and that went fine, but he's in a coma. No one can predict when he'll wake up."

The words hit Izumi like a truck, and the analogy that pops into his head makes him cringe at the irony. He's never seen Hanai like this, so completely broken. With his head in his hands, face hidden from the world, Hanai looks like a hunched old man. Izumi can almost hear the unspoken words ringing through the room: _No one can predict __**if **__he'll wake up._

"Can," Izumi chokes on the word and begins again, "Can I see him?"

Hanai shakes his head. "They aren't allowing anyone but family in tonight." Izumi's face falls, and he can feel the traitorous tears pushing against his eyes, demanding to fall free down his face. "But," Hanai continues, "since you aren't allowed to go to school tomorrow, why don't you come and visit him then?"

Now it's Izumi's turn to shake his head. Maybe he shouldn't go. "Hanai, what if his family doesn't want me to see him? It's my fault. It's all my fault. He would be alright if I had just moved. It's my-"

"Izumi," Hanai stops him, lifting his head and staring into the center fielder's wide, defeated eyes, "It's not your fault. Of course they want you to visit him."

"Why would they want to see me when it should be me lying in there instead of him?" Izumi demands, raising his voice. "It should be me!"

"But it's not," Hanai counters, "and Mizutani wanted it that way."

Izumi meets Hanai's stare, but doesn't offer a disagreement because how can he argue that? He wants to breathe a sigh of relief when his mother reenters the room, abruptly ending their impromptu glaring contest. She walks over calmly and places a gentle hand on Hanai's shoulder.

"The doctor says that Kousuke is free to go, so I'm going to take him home for some rest. You're probably exhausted as well, Hanai-kun. We should all go home and rest," Izumi-san tells him with a sad smile.

Hanai nods, stands to take his leave, and bows to her. Then he turns to Izumi who has begun to sit up completely, eyeing the IV that's still attached to his arm. "Izumi, feel better soon, okay? We need you back with the team." He gives the center fielder one last small smile and leaves the room. As he leaves, his head slightly bowed, Izumi has to wonder if he had only made things worse for his captain. Hanai was always the type to blame himself even if nothing was his fault. He was a caring, serious captain who took care of his team, but what about now when all he could do was wait and watch?

* * *

I should stop ending chapters with Hanai, shouldn't I? Bah, I keep thinking my chapters are longer, but they never are...my bad...

Thanks for reading!


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